The Language of Medicine
by arainymonday
Summary: Two years have passed since Central City General Hospital began practicing Flash medicine. Much has changed for Dr. Leonard Snart and Dr. Barry Allen in those two years. Len has the trust of the Board. They're parents to two wonderful children. They think they have everything they've ever wanted, but the wind of change is still blowing. Sequel to Primary Care Medicine.


**Title:** The Language of Medicine **  
Rating:** M **  
Warnings:** medical trauma, surgery, discussions of child abuse **  
Spoilers:** none

 **Author's Note:** In case you've missed the notes in the last two stories, this is the end of the Gray's Anatomy series. I hope you enjoy the finale.

* * *

 **The Language of Medicine**

 **by arainymonday**

Each morning, the department chiefs of Central City General Hospital gather in the conference room across the hall from the Chief of Surgery's office. Each morning, Len enters the conference room at 8:04am with a cup of coffee in one hand and a spike of irritation written on his face. He would prefer to be the first person in the conference room, but punctuality is not always strategic. Arriving last makes a statement.

"Good morning," Len says as he takes his seat.

The room is tense this morning, and Len knows why. New hospital rankings come out today. They're always posted at 9am Eastern, which means they were posted four minutes ago. But the department chiefs have other business to get to this morning, business that will be forgotten if he allows his surgeons to check the rankings first. He can see their fingers twitching toward phones and tablets, which are strictly forbidden to be used for anything except emergency pages during meetings.

"So we're going to bump hospital rankings to the top of the agenda, right?" Barry asks.

Len sends him a stern look. It's been nice having Barry in these meetings for the last two months, ever since Ray went back to Star City and Barry became interim peds chief, because it means Barry's career is advancing, but it also means one more person at the table who is unafraid of challenging him.

"No, we're staying on agenda." He doesn't give anyone time to voice an objection, not even Barry who opens his mouth to call Len a Luddite, tyrant, or both with a wicked teasing grin that still gets Len's blood up. "The Board approved the budget for next year, so I expect to see departmental budgets from all of you by the end of October. That gives you plenty of time to barter with each other for your pet projects. On the subject of funding, congratulations to Dr. Singh on his NIH grant. Good luck getting him to give you lab space for genome mapping now."

Dr. Singh nods once in acknowledgement and doesn't bother refuting Len's claim. The genome mapping lab is definitely already booked solid. Len doesn't plan to do a thing about it despite the complaints he's bound to hear. The more Singh is in the lab, the easier it will be to position someone Len likes more to unofficially take over running the surgical oncology department.

"Are we getting another lab for genome mapping?" Joe asks. "That's pretty crucial to general surgery cases. Even moreso for peds, right?"

"Like I said, budgets have been set. Have fun haggling with each other."

Joe points at Barry across the table and then back at himself to indicate they have things to talk about. That will be interesting, Barry and Joe working together on something. Joe has a better chance of striking a deal now than he ever has though. Ray would have kept all of peds budget for peds, but Ray is Oliver Queen's problem now.

"Did the Board approve interviewing for a new peds chief?" Barry asks.

"Not yet," Len says carefully. He keeps his expression neutral, not allowing a frown to telegraph a brewing argument. He knows where this is going. They've gone there frequently the past two months.

"Well, can you push them on it? I'd like to get back to my regular surgical schedule soon."

Len's brow furrows for only a second, then he schools his expression again. A meeting isn't the time to discuss Barry's ambition, or lack thereof, again. Len ignores the curious, and the concerned, glances being shared around the table.

"I'll see what I can do. Let's go around the table."

Len jots down notes as Mick talks about plans for the expanded burn unit, and Sara offers some trauma resources to keep it staffed. Henry gives them statistics on the number of patients seen in the clinic last month, and it's a near record number. It helps that the Flash can transport non-critical cases to a bed in just seconds. Harrison is flying to Washington, D.C. next week to meet with the Surgeon General, and in all probability, be named special science advisor to the President as Congress begins considering legislation to protect, or not, metahuman Americans.

"I have a question," Lisa says. Len noticed her sitting between Barry and Eddie when he walked in, but he'd hoped to ignore her the whole meeting. "When will I be cleared for surgery again?"

Len breathes in deeply through his nose. Between her and Barry, these meetings feel more like an organized mutiny some days. "It'll be three more weeks, which is exactly how long your doctor said you should be resting. Go home. Spend some time with my niece. Don't show up to the meeting tomorrow."

Lisa narrows her eyes. "It's discrimination, Lenny. No one needs six weeks to recover from childbirth unless there were complications, and -"

"That's exactly what an emergency C-section performed in an ambulance is," Len says.

Lisa slumps in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and pout on her lips. "My incision is healed."

She doesn't say that Cisco was supposed to take leave to stay home with Alaina because Lisa stayed home with Leo, and she doesn't like her best laid plans being thwarted any more than he does, but Len knows that's half of her frustration. The other half is wanting to be a great mom and a great surgeon and it's damn hard to be both. His eyes cut to Barry, who has been nagging Len to let her come back early too. Sometimes he hates that his sister and husband are so in sync.

"Take it up with Wally," Len says.

"He's a _resident_. You can overrule him."

Len doesn't respond because he's responded enough. He's not going to overrule Wally for a lot of reasons, but mostly because if a former EMT and second year resident can perform a crash C in the back of an ambulance stuck in traffic and deliver mother and baby alive and well to the hospital an hour later, he's earned the Chief's trust, especially when the patients are the Chief's family.

"If the family drama is complete," Martin says, with just enough kindness that it doesn't sting too badly, "perhaps we can check the rankings now."

Len concedes. He picks up his tablet and refreshes the rankings page. They've been up for nearly half an hour now. There's no need to refresh again. The rush of traffic to the page from every teaching hospital in the country has ebbed. His heart leaps. It's almost impossible to believe how high they've jumped. He turns the tablet around so they can all see. They too are stunned. It's Martin who breaks the silence.

"We're ranked higher than Met Gen? We beat out Met Gen!" He leaps up from his chair. "Eureka! And take that, Quentin Quale!"

Laughter breaks out around the table. Len doesn't think any of them know who Quentin Quale is anymore than he does, but apparently he works at Metropolis General. Regardless, he feels a rush of exhilaration. They've been in the shadow of Metropolis for years, but no one will ever say that CCGH is the second best teaching hospital in the Midwest again. Len wonders how long it will take Met Gen's Chief to give him a congratulatory call. Probably it will be an appropriately agonizing wait for an unctuous conversation given how strategic Len knows Lex Luthor can be.

"Thank you, everyone," Len says. "Sincerely. You should thank your residents and interns too. We wouldn't have this ranking without them. But don't tell them I said that. As my husband keeps reminding me, I have a reputation to uphold."

Barry rolls his eyes affectionately, but his grin is big and bright. He knows the reason they've jumped so high in the rankings perfectly well: Flash medicine. No one else in the country has a speedster delivering surgeons and medical supplies in the field ... yet. Maybe they'll have competition one day, but there's only one Flash, and CCGH will always be the first hospital in the world to practice Flash medicine.

Sara laughs. "If you have to be reminded to uphold your reputation, is it really your reputation anymore?"

"He invited an intern onto his case the day other," Mick says, with a wicked grin. "Don't think any of the new ones have even heard of Captain Cold."

"Don't you have surgeries?" Len asks without any bite.

"Nope. We have plenty of time to sit here and make fun of you," Sara says.

She flashes him a wide grin that doesn't look innocent at all. Mick steals another pastry from the platter in the middle of the table and leans back in his chair like they really do plan on hanging around for awhile just to mock him.

"Well, I have work to do," Len says, rising from his seat. "But enjoy the pastries."

o o o

Len does have work to do. He's meeting with each of the fifth year residents this week to discuss their fellowship plans. He doesn't want to keep any of them except Kara, except she requested a day off next week to visit National City Hospital, and not many residents who are invited to apply there can escape Chief Grant's net. The rest of them he needs to nudge in the direction of other programs. But he also needs to talk to Barry.

"Do you want to scrub in with me?" Barry asks. "It's just an appy, but I'd love your company."

Len hesitates, but then says, "Sure," because he misses performing surgery with Barry more than he says. They rarely need two peds surgeons on a case, and on the rare occasions when they do, Barry has a gaggle of residents to choose from.

He feels a frisson in the air as they start the scrub in procedure together. It takes Len back to the days when Barry was his ever-present shadow. He's something more now, something better, and the rush of affection is too much to contain. Barry's protest is muffled by Len's lips, but then he sighs and relaxes into the unexpected kiss and stops worrying about his soapy hands.

"That was nice," Barry says with a grin. Water and soap soaks through Len's scrubs where Barry holds him around the waist. "What was it for?"

Len answers with a more insistent kiss. Barry makes a sound caught between distress and interest when his back hits the rim of the scrub sinks. Len presses up against him, wet and soapy hands roaming up under Barry's scrub shirt, not bothering to hide the beginnings of his hardness.

"Len," Barry gasps. "Windows!"

Len knows they have to stop because they're in a scrub room and the surgical team is waiting in the OR and the patient is on the way. He dips his head and kisses the crook of Barry's neck and relishes in the shudder that passes up Barry's spine.

"I miss you," Len says into his skin.

"What?" Barry pulls back, concern written on his face.

"I miss _you_."

Len can feel the concern in Barry's touch on his back and in the kiss he presses to Len's temple. "I'm sure my dad would love to watch the kids for a night. Or a weekend, if you want to go away somewhere together."

"Do you really not want to be peds chief?" Len asks.

Barry's brow furrows in confusion. He doesn't understand the connection because he doesn't think of himself as that eager, ambitious resident who had the brass to march up to Captain Cold and demand a place on his service anymore. But Len does. He always will, and it kills him to see Barry set that part of himself aside for a dream Len wanted - Chief of Surgery, a house with a white picket fence, kids.

"No."

Len purses his lips. "If you didn't have any other responsibilities or anyone else to consider, would you apply for the job?"

Barry doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. They both know the answer.

o o o

Len sits the Redheaded Slut down in front of Cisco as he slides onto the stool across the bar table from his brother-in-law. Cisco blinks at the drink, then cracks a wide grin. He nods and points at the glass.

"Nice throwback."

"How long has it been since you had a Redheaded Slut?"

Cisco shakes his head, and laughs like he wishes he wasn't laughing. It's been awhile since they've spent an evening together. Usually there are kids underfoot these days. Len loves every second of the chaos that is their family. He even loves it when Michael is complaining about homework and Ivy is protesting bath time and Leo won't go to bed and Alaina is screaming because she's an infant. But it's nice to have a night out.

"Who's watching the kids?" Cisco asks suddenly. "Lisa's not by herself, is she?"

Len shakes his head. He'd made sure someone who could handle the kids had them tonight so Lisa could get some sleep. She doesn't need to be sleep-deprived on top of stir crazy. "Mick."

"Mick ... Rory?" Cisco asks. Len nods. "Yeah, I gotta go, you know, save my children."

Len puts a hand on Cisco's shoulder to keep him seated. "They'll be fine. They love him. And he's not afraid of holding babies anymore."

Cisco doesn't look entirely convinced, but he stays put.

"She furious at me, isn't she?"

The vague change of topic doesn't faze Cisco. Whether it's his vibing abilities or a skill he's learned working with neuro deficient patients, he's great at following even the most meandering conversation.

"Livid."

"She won't return my calls."

Cisco tries to hedge, but he's a terrible liar so he doesn't. "She probably won't for awhile. But, hey, she lets you come over whenever you want."

"So she can take a nap and not have to change diapers."

"True." Cisco looks torn between taking his wife's side and placating Len. "She's going through some stuff that I don't think I'm supposed to tell you about, but you should at least know that it's not just about the six weeks medical leave."

Len's brow furrows. "Postpartum stuff?"

"Nah. This was stuff from before. Like, way before. Like, from when we first talked about having another baby. That stuff is the reason I was going to stay home with Alaina." Cisco holds up his palms when Len starts to ask a question. "Huh uh. I'm not saying anything more. I am not getting between the Snart siblings. No way."

"Fine," Len grumbles. He takes a swig of his beer. "Have you talked to Barry about peds chief?"

Cisco's normally affable expression is stolid now. "Man ... come on! Now I'm just offended. Did you invite me for a drink to hang out? Or so you can avoid talking to the two most important people in your life?"

"So I can avoid talking to the two most important people in my life," Len deadpans.

At last Cisco laughs. "Okay, that's funny, but also true, and also a little bit pathetic so I'm going to take mercy on you. Whatever you think is going on with Barry, it's not. It's in your head."

"How comforting."

"Just come down to the Flash Lab sometime and I swear you'll change your mind about everything."

"What does the Flash have anything to do with it?"

Cisco blinks at him exactly like he'd blinked at the throwback drink, like he barely recognizes Len. "Right," he says slowly. "I forgot how dense you can be sometimes."

Len's iciest glower has no effect at all on Cisco.

"Come on," Cisco says, clapping a hand on Len's shoulder. "Let's play darts."

Mick and Sara are right. He's gone soft. He doesn't even try to press Cisco for more information, much less make him pay for the slight, he just follows Cisco to the back wall to play darts, and after a few rounds of spectacular wins, almost forgets there's an unknown weight on his shoulders.

o o o

Barry and the kids like to sleep in on Sundays, but Len wakes early and pads around the kitchen in comfortable sleep pants and a soft heather gray shirt emblazoned with the words New Brighton Middle School Mathletes across it. He rouses his family with the smell of baking muffins and the sizzle of bacon one-by-one.

"G'morning, Daddy Len!"

Ivy rushes into the kitchen, the grippers on her Winnie the Pooh slippers keeping her from sliding on the tile, and attaches herself to Len's waist. He scoops her up, plants a kiss on each of her cheeks, and sits her down on one of the barstools at the island. She nibbles at a chocolate chip muffin while Len removes the satin wrap from around her hair and works on pulling her curls up into even pigtails.

"Did you have sweet dreams?"

"I dreamed about swimming in dandelions."

The dandelion puffs wreaked havoc on her allergies all summer, but Ivy loved blowing wishes into the wind and talks about missing them everyday. She washes down the allergy medicine Len gives her with chocolate milk and takes a breath from her inhaler when he holds it up to her mouth.

"I don't like medicine," she protests, after the fact.

Barry wakes up next and speeds into the kitchen looking for food. His hair is wet from the shower, and he's wearing comfortable jeans and a hoodie. He kisses Len after taking a huge bite of a chocolate chip muffin.

"And to think, we used to have sexy mornings," Len says quietly.

"What's not sexy about this?" Barry jokes, his words thick with muffin.

He hops up onto the barstool next to Ivy and drops a kiss on her head. "Wow. Daddy Len still doesn't have the hang of pigtails, huh?" Ivy giggles and shakes her head. "Here, let me fix those."

Len frowns while he slices up an orange. "You would think I'd be better at this than you. I used to love watching my mom do her hair."

Barry's voice is kind when he replies. "I don't want to tarnish the fond memories or anything, but you probably should have taken Joe up on his one-time-only offer to give us an actual demonstration of how to do her hair."

Ivy cranes her neck to look up at Barry, ruining his attempt to even out her lopsided pigtails. "Dr. Joe did my hair really nice."

"Are you implying I don't?" Barry asks.

Ivy's eyes go wide and she stuffs a big bite of muffin into her mouth. Her answer is muffled, but her expression is guilty.

"We need to bribe Joe for another lesson," Barry says.

Michael wanders into the kitchen last. He looks like he's not completely awake, and once he's seated at the breakfast counter, he falls asleep on it. Not even freshly cooked bacon wakes him up. Barry is rinsing the breakfast dishes, and Len is supervising Ivy as she slots them into the dishwasher before Michael cracks open an eye.

"Save me any?" he mumbles.

Barry slides a plate in front of him, Michael wolfs it down, and Barry fills up another plate. He's become a bottomless pit the last couple months. Keeping Barry and a pre-teen boy fed is a gargantuan effort. Fortunately, Michael is pretty self-sufficient when it comes to meals, and Len has caved on the evils of packaged food.

"How late were you up playing your video game?" Len asks. He's horrified by the slightly scolding tone in his voice.

"Not too late. Maybe two?" Len resists the urge to scold Michael. Twelve-year-olds should not be awake until two in the morning, but really it's his and Barry's fault for not enforcing bedtimes. "We wanted to finish our quest."

"Did you?" Barry asks.

"Yes! It was so awesome."

He recounts a thrilling tale of good versus evil and defeating something that's not called a troll, but sounds like one from his description, to free a small village from its reign of terror. Barry is engrossed, and probably a little jealous that he doesn't have as much time to play as he used to. He and Cisco introduced Michael to the game, and he's far surpassed their highest levels. Len mouths the word "homework" at Barry, who looks pained by it, but nods in concession.

"Do you need to finish up homework today?"

"Yeah. Just a paper on _The Call of the Wild_."

Just an entire paper for English class, a subject which no one in this family particularly likes. Len foresees a lot of angst about this one. He's about to suggest they do homework before lunch, but Barry and Ivy are already racing to the garage to get the football or badminton rackets or whatever they decide they want to play today.

"I want to see you making an outline for your paper after lunch," Len says. "You're not waiting until tonight to start working on this one."

Michael complains the way he always complains - pulling a face, rolling his eyes, leaving the room without saying a word. Len chants _I love him, I love him, I love him_ over and over in his head while he takes a quick shower and gets dressed. He doesn't remember Lisa putting up this much attitude when she was this age - she bursts into laughter every time Len says that - so he's hopeful it's a phase that Michael will grow out of and they can all wipe from their memories.

He joins Barry and the kids outside in the yard where they've started a game of frisbee. The grass is lush and dewy, butting up against the white picket fence perfectly. Neat flower beds outline the four bedroom cottage-style house and Ivy's playhouse in the back corner of the lot. As usual, Michael has left his bike out overnight. It's laying on its side in the driveway.

"Pick your battles," Barry says softly.

"It's going to get stolen."

"Then he won't have a bike to leave lying in the driveway. It's kind of a win."

They've had this conversation a dozen times. It always ends with Len threatening to steal Michael's bicycle himself to speed up the morality lesson, but Barry won't allow it.

Barry runs back into the game. They're playing by Ivy's completely random rules that change depending on how well she remembers them. It doesn't take long before Ivy and Barry are blatantly cheating - Ivy levitating to catch a frisbee Len throws too high for her, and Barry zipping around the backyard intercepting the frisbee and racking up points for himself.

"That's not fair, Daddy Barry!" Ivy yells, but the next minute she's hovering twenty feet in the air with the frisbee clutched in her hands.

Len's stomach twists every time she uses her powers. He's begun to suspect that Ivy can do more than levitate, and he's terrified of the day she figures it out too. He's never been good at letting the ones he loves fly away, metaphorically or literally.

Their morning is interrupted, as it is too many mornings, by a phone call. Michael is closest to the patio where their phones are sitting.

"It's your phone, Len," Michael says.

He knows better than to look at Len's phone. Privacy might be hard to come by these days, but it's still important to Len. He jogs up to the patio and checks his messages. His secretary is paging him to the hospital. The family of a deceased patient is threatening a lawsuit. The Chief of Surgery and President of the Board are needed urgently.

"I have to go into work."

To their credit, no one complains or asks him not to go. He can still see the disappointment on Ivy's face when he hugs her goodbye. Len is never sure if he should hug Michael. Barry hugs him, but there's a distance between Len and Michael that he wishes didn't exist, but he's uncomfortable examining too closely. He claps Michael on the back in farewell instead.

"Anything I can help with?" Barry asks.

He follows Len into the house and observes as he changes out of his casual clothes and into more professional attire.

"With the page? Or the undressing?"

"Well ... if you're offering." Barry doesn't move from where he's leaning against the wall, though. "Is it surgical?"

"Administrative."

Barry pulls a face. "Better you than me. And, you know, I'm just saying, but ... This kind of thing? It's why one of us needs to pull back somewhere."

Len casts him a quelling look, but that doesn't work on Barry anymore. "I want you to have everything you've always wanted, including a successful career."

"And I do," Barry says.

They don't have time to rehash everything because Len has to get to the hospital soon. They kiss goodbye at the front door, and maybe they linger a little too long over a goodbye that won't separate them for more than a couple hours, but it feels really good to know that even when they disagree, it doesn't change their love for each other.

"I love you," Len says. "Stubborn will and all."

Barry grins, but there's a touch of sadness to it that settles heavily into Len's heart. "I love you too."

o o o

The congratulatory call from Lex Luthor comes over a week after the rankings are released, an insulting wait by any standard, but even moreso from a medical school acquaintance. To add injury to insult, he implies that Met Gen might have its own secret weapon. Leave it to Lex Luthor to call a medical advancement a weapon. Len might deck the guy next time they're in the same room.

"Uh, did the phone do something to you?" Len stops glaring at the phone and looks up to find Wally standing in his doorway. "You paged me? For the Cooley's patient Barry told me to admit."

"Right. Let's go see Natalia."

Len is used to changing faces in the hospital. Patients are admitted, treated, and released. Residents complete their education, and most of them go on to fellowships or practices elsewhere. But every once in awhile, a patient is a frequent flier or, like with Barry's cohort, residents become attendings. Natalia Small is a frequent flier, a patient Len has treated since the day she was born. She's eleven now and back in the hospital for the forty-first time, according to her chart.

"If the patient has Cooley's anemia, why isn't she just getting a blood transfusion?" Wally asks, as he trails down the hallway after Len.

"That's what we're going to find out."

Natalia sits up straighter in bed when Len and Wally enter. Sgt. Small stands at attention. He's wearing his Army fatigues and a frown.

"Nat called me in a panic this morning," Sgt. Small says, "so I rushed home and brought her straight here."

Len flips through the screens of her chart while Wally presents. Nothing looks too off, except for the dates of Natalia's blood transfusions, and Wally correctly summarises the likelihood that her dizziness, fatigue, and headaches are a result of that, just like Barry would have in the ER.

"Has Natalia started getting her transfusions at a different hospital or clinic?" Len asks. Sgt. Small looks flummoxed. "It's okay if she is. If your insurance changed and won't cover it here, or if it's just more convenient somewhere else, that's fine. The important thing is that she gets the transfusions."

"No," Sgt. Small says. "We make appointments for the whole year and keep them, rain or shine, school day or weekend. We plan my leave time and family vacations around those appointments. We know how important they are."

Natalia is suddenly very interested in the bedding, and because Len knows to watch everyone in the room regardless of who's speaking, he notices. Natalia is a smart kid. Henry told him that she reads during her transfusions in the clinic, sometimes finishing an entire book in one session. She's also a tough kid to handle all the medical treatment she needs with very little complaint.

"Natalia, what aren't you telling me?" Len asks.

It takes more coaxing than usual to get her to open up. What Len hears makes his blood run cold because he doesn't expect it. He should, but he doesn't. Barry guessed it. That's why he admitted her instead of just sending her to the clinic. He knew there was something deeper happening. But Len never saw it coming.

"We don't _always_ go to the appointments," Natalia says. "I'm not allowed to go if mom is mad at me."

Sgt. Small looks like he might faint or start screaming at any moment. He lands on denial, as most parents do when their partner's parenting is called into question. "You never said anything, Nat."

Natalia starts to cry, and that's all that Len needs to see to know the whole story. Mrs. Small, for reasons medical or psychological that she needs help for, can't handle a sick kid anymore. It's not the first time he's seen this, but he didn't expect it with this family. He leaves Sgt. Small to comfort his daughter.

"Take Natalia for a blood transfusion stat," Len says. "I don't care who is in line, find a way to jump to the front."

"No problem," Wally says. "I'm on the Chief's service. No one's gonna argue. Are you gonna call CPS?"

Len watches Natalia and Sgt. Small through the window of her room. The memories of his early childhood haven't resurfaced too often lately, not even when he mentioned his mother for the first time in years the other day. His past is his past, mostly. This is a familiar story, though - one abusive parent, one who isn't around to stop it - and it dredges up feelings he thought he'd put to rest. In a way, he has, because he's stopped expecting this. He's stopped expecting that families who look pristine in their suburban house and nice clothes and respectable jobs to be broken beneath it all.

"Yes."

Wally looks torn. "Maybe Sgt. Small will ... do something, though."

"What?" Len asks. Wally shakes his head, unsure what to say. "Parents don't just get sick of their kids. They don't just start hurting their kids for no reason. Maybe Mrs. Small has a brain tumor or an adrenal imbalance or a mental illness that's been lurking all these years. Maybe she went through something traumatic recently. Whatever it is, what is Sgt. Small going to do about that? Alone, what is he going to do about that?"

Wally nods slowly. "I'll call," he says quietly. "She's my patient. I admitted her. I'll call CPS."

Len hesitates. He almost offers to do it himself, to spare Wally, but this is a teaching hospital and he has to learn to make these calls. "The first time with CPS is the hardest. Page me when someone is here."

"It's not the first time," Wally calls after Len. Len turns to him, waiting for an explanation as to why a junior resident has called CPS himself before. Wally looks at his feet. "My mom ... she was amazing. But she had a problem when I was little. So ... yeah, it's not the first time."

So that's why he feels like a kindred spirit. Len wonders if the devastation will ever stop.

o o o

Three hours later, Barry chides Len for waking up the kids just so he can say goodnight. It's a school night, and they need their sleep, especially Michael who resembles a zombie in the morning these days. But he also heard about the call to CPS from Wally, so he doesn't chide too much, and he holds Len when he can't fall asleep and distracts him with a story about how he, Sara, and Iris ran all the way to Ferris Air to triage for some idiots playing with drones and explosives today.

"Cisco said I should spend more time in the Flash Lab," Len says.

"That would be amazing!" Barry sounds wide awake, despite being asleep a quarter hour ago. "We would make the best team, Len! And you're always saying you don't get enough OR time. Flash medicine is the ultimate rush."

Len only hums noncommittally. He's not a trauma surgeon and has never been that interested, but getting out of the hospital to do some field work occasionally wouldn't be the worst thing. The Chief never gets to leave, and barely gets to operate, in emergent situations.

"Just think about it, okay?"

"I will."

Mostly, though, Len just wants to think about his family tonight, about the privilege of falling asleep next to Barry and the privilege of juggling work and family time and the privilege of almost running over a bicycle left lying in the driveway.

"Finish your story about the exploding drones."

o o o

The door of the on call room feels cool and solid against Len's back in sharp contrast to Barry's warm, wet mouth. Len drops his head back against the door and twines his fingers in Barry's windswept hair. It's been awhile since they've done this. Life has a way of throwing surgeries, conferences, play rehearsals, and school projects at them all at once these days. It makes getting paged to an on call room and pressed against the door while Barry falls to his knees all the more exciting.

"Bed," Len commands breathlessly.

Barry obliges, kicking his shoes off and shimmying out of his clothes as he leads the way.

"Please tell me you came prepared." Barry's mischievous grin is the best answer he's ever received. "Then fuck me."

Eager vibrations run through Barry's body. Len shudders in anticipation too as he stretches out on the bed and waits for Barry, who doesn't seem to want to use his speed today because he knows how much Len likes it drawn out until it's almost a performance just for the two of them.

"On your stomach," Barry says.

A swoop of arousal and something indistinct overwhelms Len while he rolls over. He doesn't consider what it is too deeply because Barry climbs onto the bed behind him and makes him forget about anything except him and them and this with his teasing and vibrating and kisses along Len's back.

"Does it feel good?"

Barry's voice is breath against his ear, and it almost tips Len over the edge. He balls the sheets in his fists, pulling the fitted sheet from the corner of the previously pristine bed. Barry's fingers dig into his hips and he moves harder and deeper until moaned answers fall from Len's lips.

"That's what I want to hear, baby," Barry gasps.

Their rhythm is so perfect and slow, and it must take every ounce of self-control Barry has not to speed up, and that makes Len crave even more. He wants Barry, already aligned so close along his back, to press into him more so the line where he ends and Barry begins is completely blurred.

"Down," Len gasps.

Somehow, maybe because he's asked for it more often then he remembers, Barry understands. He slides his hands up Len's arms, grabs his wrists, grips so tight it hurts in the best way, and allows his full weight to press down on Len. His rhythm is relentless, the strain of keeping it steady only evident in the whines Barry is releasing and the way he rests he forehead between Len's shoulders blades like he can't possibly consider anything in the world except his own hips and Len's body.

"Yes," Len whispers, his voice almost lost in the skin of his arm and the mattress beneath his cheek. "Yes," and it turns into a chant in time with Barry's thrusts. He comes, hard and swift, between his own body and bed, and Barry comes right after, his relieved cries and force of his release more evidence that this was for Len. All for Len.

Barry's chest heaves when he rolls off Len and onto his back. He looks almost as tired and sated as Len. It's not easy for Barry to hold back during sex, but he did for Len. A rush of affection overtakes him.

"You know I've had a lot of lovers?" Len asks. Barry nods. He doesn't look concerned, which is good because in retrospect that wasn't the best way to frame his thoughts. "None of them compare to you."

A blush unrelated to exertion creeps onto Barry's cheeks. He turns onto his side, partly to hold Len and partly to hide his embarrassment in the pillow.

"Can you stay for awhile?" Barry asks.

"Yeah. I can reschedule some of my day."

Barry grabs a tissue from the nightstand and cleans them up perfunctorily - Len, at least, will need a shower before he can go back to his office - and then draws Len into his arms and traces his fingers over Len's cooling skin. Len almost drifts off to sleep within the comfort of Barry's touch and the easy silence between them.

"Why do you miss me, Len?" Barry asks. "I'm right here."

Len almost pulls away. It would be easier to claim he has to get back to work, to shower and dress and sit at his desk and round on his patients, than to answer that question.

"I don't understand what you want anymore. We're surgeons. We have clear career paths. Intern, resident, fellow, attending, chief. It's how things work, Barry. How can you not want those things?"

Barry doesn't answer for a minute. "I don't need all of those things to feel successful. I never will. Not now that I'm the Flash. I have a higher purpose than running a department. Not that that's not important or anything. But I've found a way to balance being a surgeon, a husband, a father, and a superhero. I can't add anything else. I won't be able to make time for it all. Even I'm not fast enough for that."

Len mulls that over for a while. It makes sense. Although, even if it didn't to him, it does to Barry and, really, that's enough. But he can't quite let it go.

"You don't get credit for being a superhero. It's anonymous."

Barry's response comes with a grin and a light kiss to Len's temple. "You're the one who cares about the accolades, Len. You laugh when we joke about no one calling you Captain Cold anymore, but I know it bothers you a little bit."

"It wouldn't bother you if everyone stopped calling you the Flash," Len says. It's not a question.

"You'd be livid. You'd start branding the scene with the Flash symbol after you helped someone."

"Damn right I would."

Barry laughs. "I love that about you. It's cute."

"Cute," Len scoffs.

"The purpose is more important than the presentation."

Len understands what Barry is saying. What the Flash does is more important than anyone knowing it's the Flash. What they do as surgeons is more important than their job titles. It's why Barry works so famously with interns and residents. It's why, if another speedster ever turned up in Central City, Barry would welcome them with open arms. Where Len sees rivals, Barry sees allies. It's maybe the most beautiful thing about him.

"What I'm wondering," Barry says, "is why that makes you feel so unsettled."

It's a good question. Len doesn't know the answer.

o o o

Len joins Lisa in the scrub room bright and early on her third day back to work. Her eyes narrow above her surgical mask when he starts the scrub in procedure.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd keep you company, sis. That's what surgeons around here do, right?"

"You're checking up on me."

She punches the button to start the warm water stream so hard he's surprised she doesn't break it.

"No," Len says patiently. "I'm keeping you company."

"Bullshit."

"We both have two kids now. We don't have a lot of time to spend together anymore. So I thought I'd keep you company while I have a hole in my schedule, but if you want me to go ..."

Her eyes soften. "No. Stay."

They don't say anything while they scrub and rinse. Lisa turns just before she goes into the OR, her arms held up above the sterile zone and still dripping water.

"I'm still angry you sided against me and made me take six weeks off. But I'm also angry I had to leave Alaina in the nursery. I didn't want to stay home, but I still want to spend all day with her. It doesn't make any sense, I know."

"It does."

There's nothing different about this than after Leo was born, except that Lisa seems to think she shouldn't feel this way again. And that, this time, she has to divide her attention between a demanding newborn and a demanding three-year-old.

They head into the OR and take up their places across from each other at the table. It's strange being in Lisa's OR without Jax, but he's an ortho attending with his own practice now. Like Len and Barry, Lisa and Jax are rarely in the same OR anymore.

"The surgical board said this is a rodding," Len says. He motions to the light board, which shows X-rays of the patient's hip, plenty of metal already present.

"Two of the screws are loose," Lisa says. "We're going to try fixing the rods, but if there's too much damage it'll have to be a hip replacement."

"Two? How does that happen?" Len asks, his voice sharp.

Lisa's glare is swift. "You make your best ortho surgeon stay out on leave for six weeks." Len cocks an eyebrow. "Or the patient had his first surgery at a podunk hospital."

"Uh huh," Len says. The crinkle around his eyes betrays his smile.

Iris joins them in the OR just a few minutes into the surgery. "Sorry I'm late," she says, while she dries her arms and gets gloved. "There was an unruly patient in the ER. What have I missed?"

"The start of comedy hour," Len says dryly.

Iris steps up to the table. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"I'm still making Len pay for the excessively long maternity leave," Lisa says. "Although, I guess it's actually _your_ brother's fault."

"Wally was being cautious," Iris says. "Oh wow. That's bad."

She's referring to the patient's hip, and she's not wrong. Whatever surgeon placed these rods needs to have a serious talk with their medical review board. The X-Rays show the loose screws, but not the extent of the tissue damage because of them.

"Okay, let's start cleaning this up," Lisa says.

"I haven't seen Alaina since you left the hospital," Iris says. "How is she?"

Lisa doesn't let her focus slip from her patient, but her eyes go warm and bright, and her cheeks fill with a smile her surgical mask hides.

"She's wonderful. She cries more than Leo did, but goes to sleep so much quicker. It's a trade off I'm perfectly fine with. I can already tell that she'll take after Cisco in personality, though. She demands to be held if she's awake. All she does is babble and grab my hair, but she absolutely has to be in my arms or she cries like a banshee."

"Sounds exactly like Cisco," Len deadpans.

"She sounds sweet," Iris says.

Lisa hands her scalpel over to the scrub nurse and asks for the drill to remove the screws. "Do I detect a hint of open-mindedness in your voice, Iris West-Thawne?"

Iris shakes her head quickly. "No, you do not."

"Really? No plans at all?"

Len sighs longsufferingly. This is why he limits who he keeps company in the OR. He learned quickly that extra hands means more time for gossip, at least when there aren't residents to teach in the room. He glances around, just now realizing there are three attendings - one a department chief and another the Chief of Surgery - alone in an OR in a teaching hospital. As much as he distrusts interns and residents in general, that is a problem he needs to address.

"Not at present," Iris says slowly. "Eddie is officially cardio chief now, and I'm busy with Team Flash. Sara prefers to run the ER, which is great because that means I'm basically on call for triage in the field anytime the Flash is practicing medicine. I can't imagine anything better. I don't get to run a department, but I get to be the trauma surgeon on Team Flash who is always paged first. We don't have time for a baby right now."

She looks as happy as Lisa when she was talking about Leo and Alaina - as happy as Barry when he talks about Michael and Ivy - and it makes Len feel sad. He sees the same thing in Lisa's eyes.

Iris seems to catch on after a few seconds of silence because she glances back and forth between the siblings. "I'm not judging or anything. I'm just explaining our decision."

"Of course you're judging," Len says. "And we're judging right back. It's what people do. We judge anyone who makes different choices than us, anyone who had a different experience than us. Doesn't mean we can't forgive each other for it though."

"How conciliatory of you, Len," Iris says.

If she wants to tell him to share that bit of wisdom with Barry, she doesn't say it. Len knows they're frustrated with each other and have been for a long time, but lately they seem to have found common ground with Team Flash. He hopes it's enough for them. They used to be so close, but they grew into different people.

Because Len admits to judging people, he's okay with admitting that he doesn't always like the person Iris has grown into. Like Barry, he's hurt when she doesn't come to the kids' birthday parties and backyard barbeques on the weekends because she wants a full surgical schedule. Because he doesn't lie to himself, he admits that he used to do the exact same thing.

While they close the patient - hopefully he'll recover without a full hip replacement - Len muses on what his life would be like if Barry had Iris's ambition, but he decides that he doesn't want to travel down that mental path very far because he doesn't like this imaginary version of Barry. He loves his Barry, exactly as he is.

So if it's not Barry's changing ambitions that bothers him, why does he feel so unmoored?

o o o

"Resident roulette."

Those two words cause a flurry of noise throughout the room full of attendings. Simultaneous objections erupt from anyone who has a favorite resident, and most attendings do. It doesn't matter if Len is an enemy, friend, or family. No one likes the idea.

"Hu-uh. That's not how things work at this hospital."

"You are not taking Jesse away from me."

"I choose who's on my service."

"This is crap."

"Listen up!" Len shouts. The room falls silent, but nothing can quiet the death glares directed at him. "We've all gotten a little complacent. Comfortable. We know what to expect of our pet residents." He pauses for effect. "So what happens if they change? If they leave the program? If they don't go on to become our junior attendings?"

He paces in front of the blank whiteboard soon to be filled with randomly assigned residents.

"Sara, Iris, what happens if Wally decides he'd rather be a general surgeon than a trauma surgeon?" Iris looks startled. Sara looks like she's mentally flipping him off. It puts a grin in the corner of his mouth. "Caitlin, are you prepared to teach a third- or fourth-year resident who has never been on your service before?"

"You are literally describing your teaching relationship with Barry," Sara says.

"We got lucky." His eyes slide to Barry who groans at the double entendre. "And I'm not talking about taking specialties away from residents. I'm talking about making sure every resident has time to explore every possible specialty instead of you hand-picking your favorites and never letting them leave your side." When no one can formulate a reasonable objection to that, Len goes on. "The system works. Our practice of following it only halfway doesn't. So things are changing. Intern cohorts will work in each department for six weeks at a time. No trading, no borrowing, no stealing. Junior residents rotate services every two weeks. Senior residents are yours to keep as shadows."

Barry starts to object. He's a fan of trading, borrowing, and stealing residents and interns to get extra help with his cases so he can disappear to be the Flash, but Len shakes his head slightly because there are no exceptions, not even for the Flash. He's thinking long term. Lex Luthor and Met Gen are on their heels.

Barry stays quiet, but no one else does. There's another round of protests, but this time it isn't Len who shouts them down.

"Come on," Jax says loudly. "You know this is a good idea. Look, I'm talking to you as the attendings' pet resident in my cohort. Y'all fought over me night and day. Do you even know the names of any other surgeon in my cohort? Y'all straight up ignored four amazing surgeons because someone told you I was the best. You don't even know if that's true, do you? And now that I'm an attending, I don't even get a resident to mentor because you still think of me as a resident. Y'all have got to let our residents prove themselves as surgeons and you've got to let attendings prove themselves as teachers or you're going to lose them all and your precious ranking right along with 'em."

Len doesn't fill the silence this time.

"My former pet resident has a point," Lisa says. Jax does not quell under her nonplussed gaze. "The fact is, I want a new pet resident and I don't know which one to pick. So I guess I'm in."

"Well, I suppose Jefferson has a valid point," Martin says. He's breathing like a winded rhinoceros. "I won't object."

"Yeah, okay," Barry says. "I'll give up a few of my residents to you guys."

"You're the one who's been hoarding them?" Jax asks. "I knew it! That's so rude, man."

"Sorry," Barry murmurs.

No one else offers their support - or non-objection as Martin curmudgeonly said - but they don't verbally object either, so Len gets down to the random resident assignments by drawing names out of a hat. For a second, it looks like Mick might lead a revolt himself, but Caitlin puts a hand on his forearm, shakes her head, and Mick goes back to just glowering at Len.

"First up ... Barry, you get Frankie Kane. Nyssa, you get Shawna Baez."

He goes down the list alphabetically. He assigns himself a resident too. It's not exactly a random selection, but what's the point of being the boss if you don't get to bend the rules a little? And the corner of a slip of paper so you know which one to pick when you're up. When the last resident is assigned, he lets the attendings fight over space in front of the whiteboard to claim their permanent senior residents, as if fearing they will be snatched out from under them too.

"I don't need to bodily wrestle that marker out of anyone's hands," Barry says. He drifts across the room to where Len is observing the bedlam with a frown. "Kara told me today that she's doing her fellowship in National City. Is that why we're doing resident roulette?"

Len turns his attention to Barry, surprised that his husband hasn't put the pieces together yet. "No, Barry, it's because of you. I had expectations for you that you never had for yourself. That's not fair to anyone. You weren't afraid to admit you'd changed, but not everyone is as brave as you. We need a system that makes it safe to say, 'That's not who I am anymore.'"

Barry's smile is slow, but deep. "Thank you." The moment is too raw for a room full of people, and Barry knows it, so he adds, "Just not for assigning me Frankie Kane. She needs so much coaxing and hand-holding sometimes I feel like I'm talking to our kids when I'm explaining a procedure."

Len only grins because he knows it's hyperbole and Barry isn't actually complaining. Dr. Kane certainly does scare easily, but if anyone can teach her to slow her reactions and consider all her options, it's Barry. Mostly, he's smiling because he got all of his attendings to fall in line even while stirring up a hornet's nest, and because there's synchronicity between him and Barry again.

o o o

The twice annual Allen-Snart-Ramon family retreat is supposed to happen on Labor Day and Memorial Day. It rarely does, and as proof it's the very random date of September 22nd when they pile into two cars and head an hour outside of Central City to Henry's lakehouse.

"Thanks for letting us use the lakehouse again, Henry," Len says while they're setting up baby gates at all of the stairways and steps in the split level.

"You say that every time we're out here, like it's an imposition, but I bought this house so we could have vacations together. I should thank you for giving so many surgeons the weekend off to come out here with us."

He gestures at the living room where Barry and Cisco are putting together a crib for Alaina that they took apart a few years ago when Leo outgrew it. Lisa is outside supervising Ivy and Leo while they reacquaint themselves with the swingset, and as usual, cradling a sleeping Alaina in her arms. Ivy is great with her cousin, helping him onto the swing and making sure he doesn't crash too hard when he comes down the slide.

Len doesn't see Michael anywhere, so he checks the bedroom Michael and Leo share when they're here. Sure enough, Michael is seated on his bed and attached to his phone. Len longs for the mid-90s when a twelve-year-old Lisa ignored the world with a Discman. Len knows how to handle that. This feels so much different.

"Hey, Michael. Unpacked?"

Michael finishes typing out a message, then shrugs. "We're not staying that long. I didn't bother."

Len curbs the instinct to ask why he's not in one of the main rooms helping them get settled then. Instead, he phrases it as a suggestion, something that never fails Barry. "Do you want to help me get the patio furniture out of the shed?"

Michael pulls a face. "Not really?"

A burst of anger flashes through Len so quickly he doesn't recognize it until it's gone. It leaves a sickly, unsettled feeling in his gut. He knows what happens when parents get angry at their children for being children. He grips the doorjamb to anchor him, swallows down a gulp of air that doesn't help at all.

"I'd like to spend some time with you this weekend," Len says. "What sounds fun?"

Michael gazes at Len with inscrutable eyes. Ivy inherited their mother's warm, amber brown eyes. Michael must have his green eyes from their father. The sickly feeling swirls higher, making Len feel dizzy and cold.

"S'mores," Michael says finally.

Len seizes on the suggestion like a liferaft in a storm. "We'll do that tonight. You want to get the firepit ready? I'll leave the furniture to someone else."

Michael's phone pings with a message. "Yeah, I guess. I need to answer this, though."

"I'll meet you in the backyard."

When Michael finally shows up in the backyard - twenty minutes later, much to Len's irritation and dismay - he looks upset and his phone is nowhere in sight.

"Everything okay?" Len asks.

"You wouldn't understand."

From the corner of his eye, Len sees Lisa blanch and hug Alaina tighter. Changing diapers and living on a couple hours of sleep does seem a lot easier than this.

"If you decide you want to talk about it ..."

Michael looks at him with those searching eyes, like the answer let him down, like Len should just know what's wrong, even though he apparently can't understand the mind of a twelve-year-old. Eventually, Michael stalks off in the direction of the shed where they store the firepit when they're not here.

"You were not that difficult," Len says quietly.

Lisa cringes. "Okay, you win that argument. I'll send in Cisco to do the friendly uncle thing later and see if he can figure something out." Len heaves a sigh. "Hey, don't beat yourself up, Lenny. You're a good dad."

Len isn't sure about that, but he pushes aside the doubts and tries to ignore the sick sensation in his stomach while he and Michael set up the fire pit in the back corner of the lot.

"I'm thinking about trying out for the swimming team," Michael says.

Len doesn't know how to swim. No one ever taught him when he was little, and he hates having that much skin exposed so he'll never learn now. He didn't know that Michael likes swimming. He wonders if Ivy does too. Or if Barry does, for that matter.

"My dad was a swimmer."

The words are like a knife to Len's chest, not because Michael wants to talk about his late parents who he loved and should be able to talk about, but because of the way the words are lobbed at Len like a judgement. Len isn't surprised that Michael is eyeing him carefully, shrewdly. Barry always says that he and Michael are alike, but lately, Len has started seeing something of himself in Michael, and he doesn't like it.

"For recreation? Or on a team?" Len asks, because he's not falling victim to his son's secret agenda. He knows how to keep his cool, hide his reactions, bide his time until he knows the correct response.

Michael stares at him for a few more seconds. "We need logs for seats," Michael says. "Lawn chairs just don't feel right around a fire pit."

When Len turns toward the wood pile to help Michael carry some logs over, he catches Lisa's wide eyes. She mouths, "What the fuck?" which is precisely what Len is thinking all the time.

o o o

As if Michael's swift and mysterious ire isn't enough to deal with, Len also has to contend with the ire of his extended family when their vacation is interrupted hourly to field questions from newly assigned residents who don't know their cases or how their services work.

"You really had to play resident roulette the week before our vacation?" Hartley asks.

He's stretched out on a yard lounger with Hadley on his lap. She's happily chewing on the arm of her stuffed tiger and giggling every time Axel stoops to tickle her tummy on his way between the grill and picnic table filling up with dinner.

"To be fair," Len says, "I didn't know you were going to invite yourself."

Hartley looks offended. "It's a family retreat. We have a daughter now. Family."

Hadley chooses that moment to throw her stuffed tiger at Len. It hits him square in the chest, and she erupts in giggles. Hartley coos at his daughter and kisses her wispy hair.

"Already like your daddies, huh?"

Hadley claps her hands and grins, exposing her two teeth. Hartley's complaints are forgotten while he basks in Hadley's attention. Len doesn't say a word about family retreat meaning _his_ family, not anyone with a family, because truthfully, he'd been thrilled to see Hartley, Axel, and Hadley show up. It feels right that they're here.

"I hate to ask you to tear yourself away from the star of the show," Len says, rising from his lawn chair and taking out his phone, "but can you watch the kids?"

"Resident trouble?" Hartley asks, a little sharply, but also with a wry grin.

"No, actually. Wally is handling my service just fine. I have to make some calls."

There are a couple people he forgot to invite.

o o o

Barry stays on top of Len long after they both finish, hands bracketing Len's head, foreheads pressed together, sweat dripping into the hollow of his throat. Len kisses at his heated skin, traces the bumps of his spine, whispers how much he loves Barry between gasped breaths. Eventually, Barry has recovered enough to move, but only to Len's side where he tucks himself and takes up the task of kissing every inch of Len's skin that he can reach without moving.

The bedroom is the kind of quiet that feels like a bubble. Somewhere beyond these four walls is the chaos of a family vacation waiting to sweep them away. Len can feel it ticking closer like the creeping hands of a clock. Before long the sun will rise fully, Alaina will start to cry, and the rest of the house will wake with her. But for right now, it's quiet in the bedroom and there's only Len and Barry.

"Vacation sex is amazing. We should take more vacations," Barry mumbles into Len's skin. "Why don't we take more vacation?"

"Because we're surgeons."

"I hate being a surgeon."

"You don't."

"Sometimes I do. When it gets in the way of sex."

Len laughs softly and keeps running his fingers through Barry's hair. "I'm flattered you're still so into me after all these years."

"It hasn't really been that many years. Eight isn't that many."

"My longest relationship, by about eight years." Barry's mirth is a smile against Len's shoulder. "Longer than my parents were together. Longer than I imagined someone would ever ..." He trails off, not wanting to face that stark reality so early in the morning and after such a nice way to wake up.

Barry shifts around, flipping onto his stomach and propping himself up on his forearms so he can look at Len. "Lenny, are you really okay? You've been ... different for awhile. And now you're thinking things like that about yourself again?"

Len's sigh is soul-deep, and he directs his gaze at the ceiling. There are words swirling around his head that he doesn't know how to shape. He's not sure what order they fall in, but Barry needs an answer, so Len grabs for them anyway and lets them come out in a jumble. It's a lapse in careful planning and crafting that he would make for no one but Barry.

"Sometimes I look back on my life and don't recognize myself, then or now. I can't believe I was that person. But I don't feel like this person either. There's something missing in me, Barry. I don't know what it is, but I feel it like an ache all the time." He runs a hand down his face and rubs over his eyes.

Barry moves again so that he's laying on his pillow staring up at the ceiling beside Len. He reaches over blindly, finds Len's hand, and twines their fingers together.

"You're a good man."

"I know."

"No arguments anymore?"

"No. I know I'm a good man, but I don't feel it. I don't feel brave or righteous like you do."

"What do you feel when know you're good?"

Len doesn't answer for a long moment. He really considers the answer. He digs deep and contemplates what he feels because Barry deserves an honest answer. "Fear."

"Of what?"

"That it can't be true because of who I've been."

Barry doesn't say anything, and eventually Len looks over to see turmoil in his eyes. Barry cups his cheeks, brushes a thumb over his morning stubble.

Barry says, "I heard someone say once that the carousel never stops turning. I had no idea what that meant until now."

Len still doesn't know what it means.

o o o

Sunday morning is bedlam at the lakehouse. Suddenly having seven adults and five children in a three bedroom vacation house seems like a silly idea, not to mention the extra people Len invited to come spend the day with them beginning to trickle in during the mad rush to get everyone dressed, fed, and ready for the day. Fortunately, Eddie came prepared to help out with some of the work. He scoops Leo up onto a hip, much to Leo's immense delight, and grabs a spatula to stir the scrambled eggs with his free hand.

"You've got some intense bedhead, buddy," Eddie says. Leo reaches up and ruffles his own hair more. "How about I fix that for you after breakfast?"

Iris doesn't know how to make anything except brownies, which she promises Ivy they'll do later, so she stations herself in the corner of the living room with Ivy, Hadley, and the other adults who can't cook and would only overcrowd the kitchen even if they tried. It's too loud to hear anything happening on the other side of the room, but she has Hadley on her lap and she's playing a game of Guess Who with Ivy and she and Barry are both laughing so maybe they've worked things out finally and they can be close again.

"Okay, that's all the kids' breakfasts," Henry says. "Except Alaina."

"I'll get a bottle," Cisco says, ducking under Henry's arm and opening the refrigerator, which might as well just stay open for how often they're taking out ingredients.

"How can we coordinate domino transplants and separating conjoined twins, but we can't cook breakfast?" Sara muses.

Len does a double take. He didn't notice Sara and Nyssa arriving, or Eddie handing off Leo, who is seated between them at the kitchen bar very clumsily attempting to feed himself scrambled eggs. Nyssa tries to help him with his spoon, and then has to deal with a furious little boy.

"I am a big boy!" Leo yells. "I can feed myself!"

"Yes, you are," Nyssa says evenly. "But no you can't. Give me your spoon." Leo makes an angry face. "Leo Ramon, give me your spoon at once."

Len isn't sure who will win a battle of wills between Nyssa and Leo, but he doesn't have time to watch the spectacle either. The bacon is burning, and Ivy has dragged Eddie away from the stove to look at a picture she colored.

"If only we'd named a lead cook," Henry quips. "Iris, do you want breakfast?" She shakes her head, not bothering to try and make herself heard over the noise. "Axel?"

"Whatever is easiest," Axel calls back.

"Barry? We're almost out of bacon so pick something else."

"Pancakes?"

Henry and Len sigh in unison. They'll have to use a whole pound of flour to make enough pancakes to satisfy Barry's appetite.

"Okay, but you need to come superspeed mixing the batter," Henry says.

Lisa and Hartley appear in the kitchen ages after everyone else has cleared out to eat their breakfast at the bar or small dining room table or the couches. Hartley helps himself to some leftover pancakes while casting a judgemental eye at the mess of dirty dishes, dusting of flour, and bowls sticky with pancake batter.

"Five more minutes?" Axel asks pointedly. Hartley ignores him.

Lisa shows up last of all, her hair perfectly curled into waves and makeup flawlessly applied. No one questions her, though. She's the mother of a toddler and newborn. She could have taken triple the time for herself this morning and they would all be happy she did.

"Hey, guys!" Wally says, waving at the room full of people. "Jax carpooled with me. He's getting some bocci balls out of the car? I don't know what that means."

"It's a lawn game," Michael says. "Well, a beach game, but we can play it in the grass too."

Michael is standing beside Wally, like they've come inside together. Len realizes with a sick swooping in his gut that he hasn't seen his son all morning. He's so used to Michael sleeping in and stumbling into the kitchen late that he assumed it would be the same today, but if Wally found Michael outside ...

"Cool. And, hey, thanks for the invite. This is gonna be great!"

"Is your dad coming?" Henry asks.

Wally's gaze shifts sideways, almost making eye contact with Len, but then he looks back at Henry and plasters on a smile. "Nah. There's a ... uh, situation at the hospital."

All the surgeons in the room pause and glance around, as if they're just now noticing how many of CCGH's surgeons are not at the hospital, then they swing around to look at Len. His phone has been with him all morning and he hasn't heard a peep.

"Lenny?" Lisa asks. "Who the hell is running the hospital?"

"Caitlin," Hartley answers. "She told me Len left her in charge again."

It's sheer bad luck that Caitlin chooses that moment to pull into the driveway. She's all smiles and carrying a tray of bagels when she enters, unaware of what she's walking into. Mick enters behind her, his pleasant grin faltering when he notices the panic in the room.

"No, seriously," Cisco says. "Who's running the hospital?"

o o o

Len finds out exactly who was running the hospital over the weekend when he walks in on Monday morning. Joe is waiting for him at his office door. It's not like Joe to show up quite so early, or look so agitated.

"You better a get a handle on this power-tripping, Snart," Joe says in clipped tones. "I am a surgeon and department chief same as him, and we don't do seniority here." Joe waves a finger at Len, like he's scolding a child. "And don't even try to tell me we do because you always leave Caitlin in charge and she's a junior attending."

"Joe, I -" Len starts.

"I don't want an excuse. I don't care about why or how. I just want you to deal with it."

Len heaves a sigh. "Deal with _what_?"

"I'm not going to be the only person banging down your door."

"Deal with _what_ , Joe?"

"Martin."

Len shouldn't be surprised that, left to his own devices, Martin managed to piss off even one of the most even-keeled of his colleagues. It's not the first time Len has had to knock Martin down a peg - the first time being when Ronnie requested a senior resident, and the second when Cisco asked if he could take over teaching Jesse after Ronnie died - but it's never easy.

He finds Martin in his office, as expected, reviewing his cases for the day. Martin is rarely the surgeon on call for the ER these days. He prefers to spend his time on what other neurosurgeons have deemed 'hopeless cases.'

"What are the odds for this one?" Len asks.

"Abysmally low, I'm afraid," Martin says. He tucks the film into the patient file. "I'm thrilled to be giving it a shot anyway."

Len nods, but doesn't say anything. It's hard to know where to begin. Martin's euphoric grin melts into something neutral and then sorrowful.

"I know why you're here, Leonard. Won't you have a seat?"

Len accepts the seat, and thankfully Martin doesn't force him to begin the conversation.

"So you've heard about my brush with authority even before 7am?" Martin's laugh is not amusement. He swallows thickly and nods to himself. "I resigned myself to never being Chief a long time ago. In truth, I don't think I would enjoy it as much as I always thought. But sometimes, particularly at moments like this, a spectre of what might have been creeps up on you, and in a moment of weakness, you grab for it, only to remember when your fist closes around nothing that it doesn't really exist."

Martin removes a sealed envelope from within his desk drawer. Len knows what it is without asking or being told, and it feels like the world is tipping onto its side.

"I apologize for the trouble my folly will cause you, Leonard. There will be egos to soothe and a few interns to calm. Perhaps even a meeting with the nurses union, I am ashamed to say. You'll be able to manage it all with this. Whatever the outcome, today will be my final surgery. Please accept my official notice of retirement."

Len swallows thickly and weighs the envelope in his hands. He's never known CCGH without Martin Stein. From the day he was wheeled in here on a gurney with a shiv in his side, Martin has always been here. Even before they knew each other, on his very first trip here the day Lisa was born, Martin walked these hallways.

"Don't be sad, Leonard. All things come to their end. Mine should have come a long time ago. Clarissa has been waiting patiently for over a decade. We have many quiet afternoons spent reading and vacations to warm locales to make up for. You'll be there for all of it, even if I won't be here every day. That is the nature of our ... of our family."

Len's eyes feel hot. He blinks at the crisp, cream-colored envelope. Martin has been many things to him in his life. He has been a teacher, of medicine and life. He taught Len how to drive, how to pay bills and balance his checkbook, how to cook a healthy meal for Lisa. He sat next to Len as he filled out FAFSA and scholarship applications. He spent countless hours in a skills lab teaching Len a running whip stitch. He did all of this without being asked or prodded, enthusiastically and often. Len met Martin's father exactly once, so he knows very well that Martin did all of this with more care and compassion than was ever shown him.

But.

This is the first time in almost four decades that he's used the word family to describe their relationship.

"You will be part of our lives still," Martin says.

It's almost a question with a light vocal trill at the end that might as well be a knife for the pain it causes Len. Finally, he knows why he's felt so restless and incomplete. And he wishes he didn't.

"Yes, of course," Len says. "We're family, Martin."

Relief shines through Martin's gaze and posture.

"Then all that's left to do is discuss the traditional passing of the torch. When the time comes to name my successor, I hope that your decision won't be swayed by fear of appearances. There really is no question. It should be Cisco. He was overlooked his entire education here, you know. He doesn't have the overt ambition or braggart way of showing off his knowledge and skill we expect from surgeons, but he really was the very best in his cohort. I say that with no disrespect meant, of course, but Cisco has done amazing things we have all overlooked. He is close to having a prototype of an artificial neuron technology that I truly believe will help paraplegics walk again. He deserves to be the youngest chief of neurosurgery this hospital has ever seen."

"You don't have to sell me on Cisco's merits," Len says.

"But I do. You see, that's what everyone thinks. They don't have to 'be sold' on Cisco because we like him, as a person. Does anyone realize that he has the best outcomes of any surgeon in this hospital? He's a _neurosurgeon_ and he has the best outcomes. His patients have the fewest post-surgical infection rates. We have, in Cisco, not only a brilliant surgeon, but an empathetic, humble, caring one as well. I didn't learn the value of those traits for too long. This is the legacy I want to leave behind, although I, myself, do not possess them in great quantities."

Len understands the apology that can't be spoken between them.

"There's no question that the job is Cisco's," Len says. "You'll have the legacy you want, Martin."

Martin nods slightly, smiles faintly, and Len knows that he understands the apology is accepted.

o o o

As much as a hospital is bound to throw depressing and challenging days at Len's feet, it is also prone to offering up dark comedy when he needs it most. He leans against the nurses' station in the ER, arms crossed over his chest, and enjoys the show.

"Are you going to help?" Sara snaps.

"I was thinking about getting popcorn."

She huffs at him and goes back to rushing across the ER to another patient. She doesn't stick out as much as usual - her blonde hair blends in among the many, many patients with white hair, or gray or salt-and-pepper or none at all. Mick joins Len at the nurses' station. He has a bag of chips.

"Remember our first silver flood?" Mick asks.

"You got a face lac when your patient attacked you with her purse."

"Old broad thought I was trying to steal it every time I came to check on her. I still have a scar from that."

No one is critical today. A bus full of elderly tourists eased off the road and tapped a tree when the brakes failed. There are a few cuts and bruises, and a lot of pre-existing conditions to manage, but from the amount of loud complaints, their patients think the end is nigh.

"Oh," Dr. Dillon says. "A _silver_ _flood_. Because they're old."

That produces a wave of protest from their elderly patients and a guffaw from Mick. Dr. Dillon looks panicked by the amount of yelling because of her. Len snickers into his fist. Mick crunches loudly on another chip.

"God, I love silver floods," Mick announces.

"Seriously," Sara snaps at them. "Help us or leave."

"Bye," Mick deadpans.

"Good riddance," she fires back.

They part ways in the lobby. Mick takes a seat to wait for Caitlin. He doesn't say that's what he's doing, but they leave together - and arrive together - a lot these days. Barry has some inside information on what that means from Caitlin, but Len knows better than to spook Mick with questions. It's better to let his best friend be happy in peace than make him think too deeply about that happiness.

Len meets up with Harrison, who is waiting for Jesse to decide if she's staying or going. She's in street clothes, but she's also looking at films with Dr. Singh which means someone has a brain tumor or brain cancer, and this is a life-and-death conversation.

"The perils of carpooling with a dedicated surgeon," Harrison says.

"I'll give you a ride home if she's staying," Len says. He takes a seat on the bench next to where Harrison is waiting. "And maybe on the drive you can tell me why you didn't take charge over the weekend when Martin got out of hand?"

Harrison laughs. "I'll be honest, part of it was entertainment. He moved Joe's ex-lap around the surgical board seven times. I almost took up permanent residence at the nurses' station just to watch Joe's face every time he noticed. He's so expressive. It's incredible." Harrison's smile fades into something more serious after a while. "I'm not the Chief. That's not who I am anymore, Leonard. That's why I didn't take charge."

"It's that easy to let it go?"

"Oh, there's nothing easy about accepting who you are now and that that person is not less than you should be." He taps the side of his wheelchair to punctuate his point. "But once you do, the freedom you feel ..." Harrison's smile is bright and genuine and deep. "I've done more to change the world since my accident than I even considered before. I don't mean more than I dared or more than I thought possible. I mean that literally. I had not even considered. I'm not saying any of this is fate, or inspired by my disability, or anything as maudlin as that because these incredible things I've been able to do - Flash medicine, advising the President, publishing the first ever research article on metahumans - they all happened after I told Barry I had finally accepted that the speedforce cannot cure me without also harming me in worse ways."

"You'd rather not walk than become Eobard."

"I recognized that he was a lesser man than me. Even with all of his powers, he was the lesser."

 _He was the lesser_ , Len thinks. But not about the Reverse-Flash.

o o o

Len is anxious when he gets home. The drive from the hospital to their house feels twice as long when he desperately wants to be safe inside those four comfortable walls. Most of the windows are dark when he pulls into the driveway - narrowly missing Michael's bicycle lying askew there - and it's quiet when he walks inside. His watch tells him it's 10:10pm.

Like he does every time he arrives home late, he makes his rounds through the house to check that the windows are closed and doors are locked, that everyone is tucked safely in bed, and that alarm clocks are set. Ivy is nothing more than a lump curled up under her bright yellow comforter. She doesn't wake when he peels back the blankets to give her a goodnight kiss on the forehead, just snuggles up closer to the stuffed Pikachu cradled in her arms.

Michael is still awake even though it's over an hour past his bedtime. He's seated at his desk, one hand in his hair and the other propping open _Wonder_ , the leisure reading book he picked out for Reading class. His posture tells how little he's enjoying it, though.

"Michael?"

Michael starts and drops his book. He furiously rubs at his face before he turns around, and when he does, it's clear that he's been crying. Len steps into the room, not sure what he can do to protect Michael from an upsetting book, but feeling like he should try anyway.

"Everything okay?"

"I hate reading. It doesn't make sense. That makes sense."

He gestures at the miniature Empire State Building sitting on his desk. It's from an Architectural Lego set they got him for his birthday. Len had picked it out, thinking that Michael might enjoy building a structure as much as he enjoys building mechanical arms and pulleys with his Erector Set. He'd been right; Michael loved it.

Len tries not to think like a doctor when it comes to his children. He's too prone to seeing monster ailments when it's nothing more than a cough or the sniffles. He tries not to think that way right now, but tomorrow they're taking Michael to the hospital so Cisco can run a dyslexia test, and if that's not what's been going on with Michael's school work, maybe they'll talk to Axel too because Len can't stand the idea that Michael is miserable the majority of the day, every day, and not know why.

"You could use a break," Len says. "Come on."

He puts an arm around Michael's shoulder and guides him to the kitchen. Michael walks beside him easily, his weariness evident in the way he's leaning in slightly so that his head bumps against Len's chest every few steps.

"Oreos," Len says, pulling a package out of Barry's junk food cupboard. "And milk."

"That's what Aunt Lisa gives Leo when he's having a tantrum."

"Because that's what I used to give to her when she had a tantrum. Or when she was sad. Or we needed to celebrate." Len doles out the cookies and pours two glasses of milk. "I kept them hidden in my room so I could always sneak them to her, even if our dad was awake."

"You had to sneak Oreos?"

"There's a reason you've never met my dad."

Michael nods while he dunks his Oreo and bites into it. He eats them like Len. Nothing fancy, like Barry twisting them apart and Ivy dunking them until they're a soggy mess, just a few seconds in the milk and a bite. They eat in silence, and while Michael seems to find comfort in the late night snack, Len's stomach twists into more knots with each passing minute.

"Michael ..."

Michael looks up, for once his expression clear and young. Len feels like his heart is cracking wide open, the contents spilling out of its vessel and infusing every cell in his body with something foreign, something held at bay for so long he scarcely recognizes it.

"Yeah?" Michael asks, when he's silent for too long.

Len's hand is almost trembling when he lifts it from his lap, wraps it around Michael's shoulder, and pulls him closer. He kisses the top of Michael's head.

"I love you."

Michael's reaction is as swift and unexpected as his sullen moods of late. He jerks forward, arms rising to wrap around Len, and he buries his face in Len's chest. His left hand hits his glass and it topples over, sending milk spreading over the kitchen island and onto the tile. They don't notice.

"You do?" Michael asks, his voice muffled by Len's shirt.

Len wraps him up in a hug, and he's not surprised to find that it feels as natural as hugging Leo, Ivy, Lisa, and Barry. He would have been yesterday, but he's not today.

"Yes, I do. I love you."

"I thought you just wanted Ivy, and I ... I thought you'd rather just have her."

The confession startles Len, but he doesn't blame Michael for misunderstanding. It's not his fault, not any of it. Len releases Michael and lets him sit back in his chair. They notice the milk finally, but Len let's it go. It's not important.

"I've done better than the men who were my fathers," Len says. "In one case, that's a low bar I would be ashamed to not meet. The other is a higher bar that I thought was my goal, but it's not. I have more in me. You deserve all that I have to give you."

"And that's telling me that -"

"That I love you." Every time Len says it, he feels a little lighter, a little freer. "I love you. You deserve to hear that because the way I show you my love won't feel like love for a long time. One day, you'll look back at see that making you do your homework and put your bicycle in the garage and eat healthy meals is love, but you shouldn't have to wait to know how much I love you."

Michael nods slowly. "Yeah, I didn't get that. I thought you were mad at me."

"Never." Len shrugs. "Well, the bicycle thing really gets me."

Michael cracks a smile. "Me too. Someone's going to steal it if I keep leaving it out. I'm a nervous wreck all night!"

Len doesn't remember Lisa being like this, but that sounds exactly like her, so maybe she was this way and he loves her so much that he's forgotten all the frustration and uncertainty.

Michael slides off his barstool. "We really need to clean up the milk. The whole kitchen will stink if we don't."

A smile breaks over Len's lips too. The son who won his heart two years ago is back. Or he never left, just hid himself from Len so he didn't get hurt. That's going to haunt Len for a long time, but this man he is now, he can forgive himself eventually because he knows the power of change.

They clean up the kitchen together, and Michael dashes outside to bring his bike into the garage and gives a sigh of relief when Len closes the garage door again. They walk back to Michael's room, Len's arm around his shoulder again, and this time he realizes that Michael is leaning in for a hug, not because he's tired, so Len gives him one before sending him off to bed.

"Don't try to read anymore tonight. We'll figure that out tomorrow. Goodnight, Michael."

Len is almost past Ivy's room when Michael says, "Dad?" Len's heart soars inside his chest. "I love you too."

o o o

Barry holds Len while he cries. He's cried more in the years they've been together than in his whole life, and now Len can see what a good thing that is. He doesn't think Barry has any idea why he's falling apart tonight. Their room is too far away from the kids' rooms and kitchen to have overheard anything. It makes his comforting touches and patience that much sweeter.

"Did you find it?" Barry asks. "The thing that was missing inside you? Did you find it?"

Barry knows the answer. He knew it weeks ago, even before Len did, when he shared that metaphor about the carousel. It always keeps turning. Len thought he had to turn with it and close his eyes to keep the spinning from becoming nausea. But he didn't. He could step off the carousel.

Len nods against Barry's chest. He doesn't say anything for a long time, the silence only broken by his soft tears.

"I'm not him," Len says, voice raspy.

"You're not," Barry promises.

"I never was. He has always been the lesser."

o o o

According to Len's calendar, he's meant to be in OR 11 after submitting the budget for next year to the Board. He has no recollection of scheduling a surgery, but it's on his calendar and his secretary assures him it's accurate, so he heads down to the surgical floor. He realizes he doesn't need to scrub in when he spots Barry alone in OR 11.

"Are we scheduling sneaky dates in ORs now?" Len asks. "As Chief, I can't condone our on call room trysts happening in a sterile environment."

"It's not a tryst, I swear!" Barry waggles his eyebrows. "Although I wouldn't mind occupying an on call room later."

They don't really need an on call room tonight. Michael and Ivy are staying with Martin and Clarissa tonight. She just left with them after the Board meeting. They're going to play Trivial Pursuit Junior and eat ice cream before bed, according to Martin. Last night they stayed with Henry, and with Hartley and Axel once last week. There's some guilt that goes along with relying on their village that much. But, then, they don't judge when Hadley or Leo and Alaina stay with them. They're beginning to see that there's no such thing as pulling back for surgeons, not really. When the choice is between dinner at 6pm and saving a life, it's no choice at all. Barry had it right when he declined peds chief. It can't be about the prestige. It has to be about good parenting and saving lives because there's no other acceptable excuse for missing even a minute of their kids' lives.

"What are we doing here?" Len asks, not because he's impatient, but because he's curious.

"I thought we could use a minute of quiet contemplation together," Barry says. "We've been through so much together. Residency and falling in love ..."

"My father trying to kill yours and unchecked jealousy over your exes..."

"Becoming a superhero and defeating my nemesis ..."

"PTSD and existential crises ..."

Barry shoves Len's shoulder. "Stop being such a pessimist!" He laughs though and shakes his head as he looks around the room.

"But we did lose each other a few times along the way."

Barry nods, conceding that point. "We probably will again. It's what'll always happen as long as people are people. The important thing is that we always found each other again."

"That is one optimistic idea I can get behind."

Barry loops his arms around Len's neck and kisses him sweetly. It's a long, lingering kiss that brings a smile to both of their mouths and breaks the kiss.

"Ask me why OR 11 is so important," Barry says.

"Barry, why is OR 11 so important?"

"Because we met for the first time in this OR."

"Did we?"

Len glances around the OR, as if its sterile walls identical to every other OR in this hospital can remind him of that day, but he only draws a blank.

"Yeah. I was an intern on Joe's service. He sent me in here to get an update on your patient because our patient kept asking about his daughter."

"What did I tell you?"

Barry's grin is wicked. He does a fantastic impression of what Cisco used to call Len's Captain Cold voice. "Get the hell out of my OR. Interns aren't allowed near patients. You're liabilities they can't afford."

"Sounds like me," Len quips.

"You said something else too."

"What?"

Barry doesn't impersonate Len this time, just speaks Len's words in his own voice. "If you want to talk to me, come back when you're a third year."

The significance dawns on Len slowly. The voice surfacing from his memory sounds so young and eager and beautifully familiar.

" _Dr. Snart? I was hoping I could talk to you about being on your service? I'm Barry. Dr. Allen. I'm a third year resident now, and I'd really like to specialize in peds."_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for reading this shameless, self-indulgent epilogue. I hope that it hit the right notes for you and you feel happy, whether saccharine or bittersweet, knowing how everything wraps up. Also, thank you for reading this entire series. I started writing this series a year ago. I didn't think anyone would read it, much less respond with such kind and supportive words. You've given me a lot of smiles and the motivation to continue writing a massive WIP to its conclusion. (The final tally is 8 stories and almost 175,000 words in this series!)

Every story with an ending-that's-not-the-end will have some loose threads, but I hope I wrapped up the most important ones, or at least hinted that everyone gets their happy ending in some form. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and kudos are cherished. You can also contact me on Tumblr. I'm arainymonday there too.

I'm not sure what's next for me. I've been kicking around several ideas - and testing the waters with some one-shots - and whichever I land on, I hope to have you as readers again in the future.

With much love,

arainymonday


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